The Lark's Folly
by Atkar
Summary: Written for Promises - A Catradora Fanzine! Catra wants to get back at oh-so-perfect Adora by playing pranks on her.


Catra waited, her tail flicking ever so slightly, her eyes glowing in the shadows as she scanned the corridor below until she heard the soft padding of bare feet. _Finally…_

Clad in an old cadet uniform for nightwear, Adora walked along the corridor to the bedroom with a frown, betraying her annoyance at not being able to find Catra all day.

Catra almost purred in anticipation as Adora approached her perch on the hanging rafters, her claws curling as she leaned forwards, preparing to take flight.

Then – just as Adora was directly below her – Catra pounced, effortlessly falling downwards and almost gracefully knocking the blonde off her feet, the air leaving Adora's lungs with a sharp _oof_ when her back hit the floor.

It took only a second for Adora to refocus, her blue eyes on Catra going from wide with shock to narrow with admonishment. "Where have you been?" she hissed, keeping her voice low in case the other cadets overheard. "I've been covering for you all day!"

Catra's quiet giggle danced between them, a high-pitched song revealing fangs glinting in the strange glow of the Fright Zone. "Oh, Adora, did you miss me?"

Her friend huffed underneath her, shoving her weight away with one fluid movement. "Don't be so childish. I won't cover for you again," she warned, dusting herself off as she rose from the floor.

Catra stood, folding her arms across her chest with an amused smirk. "We both know that's not true."

Adora scoffed, but she couldn't deny it. "I'm going to bed. Are you coming too, or are you disappearing again?"

Catra's ears flicked, her expression dropping slightly. Neither of them wanted to sleep alone – Catra hadn't used her own bunk in years and she knew, despite any complaints, Adora had grown accustomed to her company at the foot of her bed.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to miss me too much," she said, following after Adora.

Catra could hear the smile in Adora's voice when she replied, "Of course you do."

Catra actually went to training the following morning, checking the sheen of her claws in boredom while Lonnie and Adora sparred.

When Lonnie finally fell victim to Adora's overwhelming perseverance and landed on her butt, panting heavily, Catra pushed herself away from the wall and approached the sparring circle, not bothering to wait for the instructor to call her forward.

"Good match!" Adora exclaimed, helping Lonnie to her feet with a wide smile. "You almost had me!"

_She was nowhere near beating you… _

"My turn now," Catra spoke up, flashing her fangs as she spun her staff before her.

Lonnie cast her a sidelong glance full of disdain, before clapping Adora on the shoulder and striding away to join the others by the wall.

"You ready to lose?" sneered Catra, planting her stance wide and light on the balls of her feet, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice with her staff poised low.

"Come on," Adora beckoned, holding out her own staff with both hands. Sweat beaded on her brow, dangerously close to falling into her eyes, the muscles in her arms tense and prepared, her own grounded stance just as ready as Catra's.

Blue eyes watched as Catra dashed to the side, staff swinging to meet the blow with a _thwack_ and then quickly dodging the next.

Catra ducked and swayed, swiftly leaping aside and back again as Adora beat each attack with two of her own, their staves hitting and parrying with each move.

They were well-matched opponents, but Adora was tiring while this was Catra's first sparring match – all it would take was a single slip-up.

Adora's arms were visibly growing heavier, her parries slower, her dodges narrowing, and Catra started to hit harder, move faster, and faked one swing only to change direction in the same second.

Adora wasn't prepared, struggling to throw her staff up with both hands to stop the attack, but instead stumbling over her own retreating feet. Catra grinned, putting her full power behind her swing, only to end up being thrown to the floor when Adora tried to balance her own fall with her staff, knocking Catra's legs out from under her.

The instructor clapped once, resounding and sharp. "That's it for today," he boomed, the lights flickering bright around them. He approached, steps loud as he loomed over Catra. "What was _that_, cadet?"

She blinked. "What was what?"

He jabbed a finger at Adora scrambling to stand a few metres away. "That disgrace," he spat. "You lost by _tripping_? Stay here, cadet. Train your feet so you might actually stay on them."

He led the others out, leaving Catra to train like a pacing beast trapped in a cage. Catra huffed, her ears flattened against her skull, as she caught Adora looking back over her shoulder guiltily. But would she ever get punished? No. Would she ever have to worry about her simple mistakes being shoved in her face like the worst atrocity possible? No. Would she be thwarted at every step and her every action dismissed? No.

That only ever happened to Catra – even now when her own defeat wasn't her fault. Adora had _tripped her up _by flailing around with her staff rather than actually thinking. It wasn't fair. It was _never_ fair.

But was it Adora's fault? No, probably not. Would that stop Catra messing with her when she could? Of course not; what were best friends for?

When Catra could finally escape her 'extra training', she found the other cadets in the locker room getting ready for bed, dropping sweat-stained uniforms to reveal both old and fresh bruises from all the other training sessions she had missed – or avoided.

She didn't deign to acknowledge the remarks she received when she entered the locker room, instead leaning against the wall beside Adora while she shrugged on a tattered night shirt.

"Catra," said Adora, softly. "I'm sorry, are-"

"Hey, it's fine," Catra interrupted, flashing a toothy smile. "But next time, maybe don't hide the fact you fell over by tripping me up." She winked, as if it were a great secret between them.

Adora paused, scrutinising her expression for any signs of deception before smiling sheepishly and gently smacking Catra's arm. "Shut up, you've done worse."

Catra opened her mouth to respond, but the words and the grin spreading across her lips vanished as Lonnie held a small bag high, catching Adora's attention.

"Come on, Lonnie! Just share!" whined Kyle.

"No way, these are mine." Lonnie noisily bit down on a cookie, the bag rustling with more. "I snuck these in, I get them all."

Adora's eyes were huge, her mouth open and almost drooling at the mere sight of the cookie between Lonnie's fingers. She was leaning forwards, almost toppling over with eagerness, but she quickly turned away as Lonnie threw the bag into her locker and slammed the door shut, locking it with a loud _clang_.

That night Catra waited for everyone to fall asleep before she unfurled herself from her position at Adora's feet. She swiftly snuck out the door, down the hallway, and straight into the dark gloom of the locker room which looked just as bright as daytime to her.

She flashed a claw, her ears twirling and twitching to catch any slight noise of anyone approaching, and in one fluid motion and barely a second of twisting Lonnie's locker swung open. _It's time Adora got in trouble for something_.

She grabbed the bag of cookies, her eyes glowing and her lips raising in a smug lopsided smile as she carefully placed them in the forefront of Miss Perfect's locker.

Then she tiptoed back to bed, curling against the warmth of Adora's legs, anxious for the _glory_ of Adora's expression the following morning.

Catra leaned against the wall, the tip of her tail wagging slightly as she keenly watched, waiting for events to unfold. Adora would open her locker, everyone would see the stolen cookies – and she would have no way out.

Catra's lips twitched as Adora finally went to her locker, swinging the door open and then abruptly stopping short. Her mouth opened, a question spreading across her face, and she spun around to stare wide-eyed at Lonnie.

_Here it is. _

But Lonnie didn't notice. _No one noticed._ No one saw the cookies and no one saw Adora standing motionless with this idiotic adoring, appreciative expression on her face. She grabbed her uniform and surreptitiously closed her locker, frequently glancing at Lonnie as if to catch her eye, but then seemed to decide that it was a secret between them and just kept _smiling_.

_She…she thinks Lonnie gave those stupid cookies to her as a gift hidden from everyone else? She's grateful? To Lonnie? _I_ put them there! She's supposed to be in trouble, not giving stupid _heart eyes_ to _Lonnie.

Catra decided to up her game. Every day Adora lived would be a prank; she wouldn't ever be able to find things she needed, she'd find them weeks later in the weirdest, most difficult to reach places, she'd trip her up or startle her from the shadows, she'd put crumbs in her bed, or suddenly turn the water cold while she showered. But every time Adora either shrugged it off, got annoyed, or failed to even acknowledge that it was a prank – she'd either get help from someone else or always seemed to be so prepared that anything Catra did was barely a blip on her radar.

_Fine. I'll do something that she won't be able to ignore or push aside. _So every night Catra would wait for Adora's breathing to deepen before sneaking off to gather decaying scraps of old rags and broken material, using the dark of night or the gloom of day when she skipped training sessions to piece them together with rusting wire and fraying string, the last shreds of snapping rope and crumbling coal, buttons decades old that had bleached in the sun attached to stained, wrinkled, ancient cloths dug out of literal trash piles.

Catra's hands were calloused and sliced, pricked and poked with needles and sharp shards of plastic and metal, yet she had finally finished.

It was ugly. _Beyond_ ugly. It was devastatingly monstrous; it would give Kyle or even Lonnie nightmares for centuries. It was the most freaky, weirdest, and most terrifyingly disfigured creature Catra had ever imagined – it was _perfect_.

Catra tucked it in Adora's bed, the black soulless eyes peering out over the blanket, ready to haunt anyone who witnessed its revolting existence.

Catra lurked in the shadows of the hallway, waiting until Adora had passed before tiptoeing after her, watching with smug excitement from the doorway, listening for the mortified cry of disgust or horror.

But when Adora gasped it wasn't with fear, it was with delighted surprise. She snatched the vile plush from the bed, holding it in her hands like a precious gift. "What is this? It's so cute!" she cooed, her eyes lit up with utter joy as she caressed its tattered ears.

_What…? What is happening…?_

Adora turned her happy gaze to Catra, her eyes immediately falling on her scratched hands. "Did you _make_ this?"

Catra managed a small nod, swallowing down an emotion she didn't recognize.

Adora flung herself at Catra, enveloping her in her warm arms. "Thank you _so _much, Catra! I love it!"

When Adora pulled back, Catra could barely breathe. Adora was happy about something _she _had done and Catra was overwhelmed, a feeling she was drowning in like walking through a thick fog – and she _liked_ it. She _liked_ that expression on Adora's face, she _liked_ that it was because of _her_, and she wanted to see more of it.

Adora grinned, and Catra exhaled, folding her arms and reflecting that smile with one of her own. "Of course you do."


End file.
